Blindsided
by Webdog177
Summary: When Kanako, a star basketball player who is stricken with a debilitating handicap, meets Yumi, a volunteer counselor, can she get the help she needs to get back on her feet and star her life anew? Or will her eyes remain closed to the help she is being offered? [YumixKanako AU / Yuri]
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Maria-sama Ga Miteru

A/N: FINALLY! My YumixKanako fic. A few of you know how long I've been trying to do this one. For the LONGEST time I have been trying to come up with some plot line to fit Yumi and Kanako together. And finally, while playing Lilly's route in Katawa Shoujo (Damn great game. Lilly=bestgirl. Fight me), I was struck with this idea.

A short prologue, simply a taste of more to come. The Aperitif of the story, if you will.

Mmm… Aperitif… :D

Enjoy!

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 **Blindsided**

 **Prologue**

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The trill of the whistle.

The squeak of my sneakers.

The slap of the ball on the polished, wooden floor.

The swish of a perfect three-pointer.

And the roar of the crowd when we pulled ahead by another few points.

The exhilaration that came with running down the court, palming the basketball a team member passes to you, only to pass it on again to the next team member, and finally pumping your fist into the air when you see the ball sail through the air and bounce once, twice, on the rim and then finally sink into the basket, winning you two more points.

The feeling of sucking a refreshing, ice-cold bottle of water as you sweat, your shirt sticking to the skin of your back like a second layer of flesh, and forcing out a satisfying sigh of relief as the water settled in your stomach, cooling you from the inside out.

And, not to mention, the camaraderie that comes with playing on your team, relying on them to read your movements, catch your eye from across-court and know you are set and ready to receive the ball, that you are in the perfect position to score those points, or that you can turn right around and have the next team member at your back, ready to continue your pass to the basket.

It was all incredible. And it was why every time I stepped into my sneakers, pulled on my jersey and tied my long, black hair into a tight ponytail, my heart pounded with the same excitement I felt as though it was still my first ever basketball game, all those years ago as a freshman in high school. Even now, as a twenty-two year old in college, I still loved the game as if I had just started playing.

And I was good. I was tall – extremely tall for a girl. I was easily the taller than the other girls on my team. I was taller that the girls on the _other_ team. A lot of people thought I was good at baskerball simply because I was tall, but that was only part of it. I knew where to put my feet, I knew how to dodge, juke, dribble and pass like a pro.

But basketball isn't a one-person game; it's a team game. I was also a great team player. I had a sharp eye for my teammates – being tall made it easy for me to pick the other girls out of the others – and it was just as easy for them to pick me out in the court and toss the ball to me.

It all added up, in the end, because I was a basketball player. It was all I ever wanted to be, and it was my lot in life. Most of my friends played basketball, and all of what I ever talked about was basketball. I had no boyfriends, only my teammates and a ball. I had no job, I only had practice and matches.

Looking back, I would have never thought I could imagine doing anything else.

"Kanako-san!"

At the sound of my name heard about the static roar of the crowd I turned towards the call, holding my arms out to make myself available to receive. My teammate, Keiko, was a few meters away with the ball, but blocked by three other girls, their arms wide and keeping her effectively pinned.

I craned my neck around to scope out the court. Aside from myself, there were at least three others ready and able to pick up the ball from Keiko. I wasn't the only one in position to receive, but I was the only one close to the basket. Well, that made things easy, didn't it?

I raised my arms up, ready to receive and stood up straighter, towering over the other girls on the court.

"Kurosawa-san!" I called out, getting the other girls attention.

Her nod was all the warning I got, and a moment later the ball sailed above the defense's head towards me. I didn't even have to jump up to catch the ball, being so tall, and I whirled around to dribble closer to the basket. As soon as I made it another meter, I found myself blocked by two more girls, and I knew I wouldn't get any closer.

That was fine.

I felt my back stiffen and I held the ball above my head, arching my wrist as to get a good angle on the shot. From this distance, any shot I made would easily count as a three-pointer, and I was particularly good at those. Maybe it was my height, or maybe it was just because I had a good handle on my hand-eye coordination. Whatever the reasons, if I had the proper opportunity to line up my shot – only a moment or two was all it took – then I rarely ever missed.

My eyes focused on the basket, well above the defense's heads, and I lined up the ball with the goal. I bent my legs and readied my jump. I sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled, pushing myself into a small hop to give myself just the smallest boost in my shot—

"Hosokawa!"

"Kanako-san!"

All the warning I had, aside from my name being called above the din of the crowds and squeaks of the sneakers, aside from the flashing lights from cameras and the spotlights, was the sudden pressure on the back of my legs. My mind registered it, oddly enough, as someone running into me from behind, and catching my calves as they stumbled on the court.

Regardless, it was all it took to knock me over, sending me sailing backwards like an action figure being tossed over a child's shoulder. I flipped backwards, my stomach flipping with the sensation of vertigo, and the last thing I saw before I felt the distinct _'crack'_ of the back of my head hitting the floor, was my ball sailing directly towards the basket.

A perfect shot, like always.

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You know that weird feeling, when you know you were asleep for a while and you can feel yourself slowly wake up?

It starts at your feet, or your hands – it's different for different people.

For me, it always starts at the feet, right at the tips of my toes. From there it crept up the soles of my feet to my heels, and then up my calves and shins to my knees, my thighs and then up the rest of my body, spreading out to my arms and hands, and finally ending at my head, when my consciousness would flutter awake and my eyes would open.

It was like that every day of my life.

Except today. Today, my eyes opened, but I still saw black. Pitch black.

As I started to panic and my breathing came in rapid inhalations, I could hear the heart monitor chime in quick succession, as to match me beep for breath. I could hear the sudden alert to the nurse to come check on bed two-five-one. I could hear my mother's voice, telling me to be calm while the doctor arrives and I could hear him tell the nurse to hold me down to try and keep my arms from thrashing around to try and find some sort of reason why it was suddenly so dark.

I could smell the familiar smell of a hospital; antiseptic and plastic. Soap and disposable latex gloves.

I could taste the horrible taste of bile in my mouth. As I cried out in fear and anger at unknown hands on my arms, I wondered how long it had been since I brushed my teeth and when in that time I had thrown up.

I could feel the uncomfortable scratchiness of a hospital gown; those ones that they tell you to strip down naked and put on, when you know very well that you would be more comfortable for a stay in the hospital in your own God damn clothes. It probably had an opened back, just to add to the humiliation and discomfort.

But I couldn't see.

My mother's voice told me to keep calm, she would explain everything. The doctor's voice commanded the nurse and my father – who was apparently in the room as well, I could tell from his deeper grunts as I flailed my arms around – to try and keep me under control.

But I couldn't see.

My arms were finally pinned to my sides, and I snarled in frustration, fear, pain and anger. I hated being manhandled like that, and I didn't even know what was going on. I could hear, I could taste, I could smell and touch.

 _But I couldn't see._

As I felt the sharp prick of a needle jab itself into my thigh, and the sudden feeling of wooziness and lethargy seemed to crawl and slither into my mind, I collapsed back onto the bed.

The last thing that flitted through my mind as my body shut down was that, while I hoped to God it wasn't true… I wouldn't ever be able to see again.

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 ** _End of Prologue_**

A/N: Woo! Depressing. Don't worry, it won't be forever. :D

Again, a bit short, I know. But this is a prologue, and the main chapter will be my usual 2.5-4k work length. Most likely. Unless I get cheeky and decide to do longer. Eh.

Hope you all get hooked!

Please comment/follow/favorite!

 _***Will work for glomps***_


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Maria-sama Ga Miteru

A/N: Welcome to chapter one of Blindsided! Sorry for the delay (though... two days isn't all that much of a wait...)

Enjoy!

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 **Blindsided**

 **Chapter 1**

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I never really noticed the small things before when driving in a car. The quiet hum of the engine. The smell of leather and rubber and plastic. The constant, almost unnoticeable vibration coming up from the car itself. Since you spend so much of your time in a car actually paying attention to driving, or watching the world pass you by outside the window, you never really notice things like that.

But when you can't see, it's all you really notice. When you can't simply turn your head and look out the window at the man walking his dog, or a couple window shopping, or a bicyclist keeping pace with the traffic, then you are have to find something – anything – to occupy you from them.

After a solid month and a half of being blind, I can tell you I noticed things like that all the time now.

"Can we turn on the radio, or something?" I asked aloud.

There was silence for a few moments, before I heard the _'click'_ of the stereo and then the car was filled with my mother's favorite classical music. My lip curled at the choice, but I didn't comment. Even classical music was better than silence.

No, that wasn't quite right. There was no silence anymore. Now that I couldn't see, I tended to focus on my hearing more often, and that meant hearing things I would have normally never noticed. Such as the small noises and bumps in the car. Or the fish tank in my living room when trying to sleep at night. Or my parents talking in their bedroom when they thought I wasn't listening…

I lasted about a week at home after being discharged from the hospital before starting to sleep with headphones, music drowning out all the unwanted noise.

If I were the optimistic type, I would have been amused at the idea of me gaining superhuman hearing powers.

But I wasn't the optimistic type, so screw that.

"I wish you would let me help you pick out your clothes, Kanako." My mother muttered from the driver's seat. I could almost imagine her shaking her head in exasperation. "Or at least work at coordinating the colors in your closet."

I shrugged, not really caring if my clothes didn't match. For all I knew, my jeans could have been lime green and my t-shirt could have been bright red. I could picture myself looking like a skinny Christmas tree, with my height, and it amused me. When you were stricken blind and lost pretty much everything in the span of a few seconds, you had to take what amusement you could get.

"At least let me help you with your hair…" She continued, her voice softening slightly. "It's so long…"

"I'm fine." I said simply, turning my head away towards the window. I couldn't see anything, of course, but the gesture meant the same. _I was finished talking_. She seemed to understand, as she stopped trying to engage me in conversation.

I had been this way ever since being discharged from the hospital two weeks ago. I had been quiet, my responses clipped and simple. I may have come off as a bit short, but I was much friendlier than when I spent my month in the hospital after my accident.

After waking up and being told I had suffered a concussion and a small, closed fracture to the back of my skull, and the resulting damage caused me temporary, probably permanent, blindness, I had been beside myself.

I cried for a long time. I yelled and screamed at my parents, the nurses and doctors that tried to help me until my head pounded with effort. I snarled and cursed at my mother when she tried to help me change clothes, take me to the bathroom, and tried to feed me.

I was in the hospital for about four weeks, and during that time I could do nothing except lament the loss of my sight.

I didn't really know what else to do. I _couldn't_ do anything else. Not being able to see, I couldn't go anywhere, couldn't do anything to distract me, and couldn't even see my friends when they came to visit. I could _hear_ them, of course, when they crowded around my bed and told me what a tragedy my loss was for me… but I couldn't _see_ them.

Even the girl that had tripped me visited me with her parents. She sounded shaken, frightened, and extremely apologetic. She sobbed and told me how sorry she was, and if there was anything she could do to name it and she would do it no matter what.

But I couldn't bring myself to hate her. In her place, I would have behaved the same way. So I just ignored her. Maybe that was even worse than yelling at her.

After I was discharged and sent home, I felt a little better. My house was familiar – I had grown up there and the smell was enough to calm my anxiety as soon as I stepped in the front door. I could walk around the house easily enough. Even maneuvering through the rooms blind, it was not that much different than walking from my bedroom to the kitchen at midnight to get a glass of water in the dark and I could manage.

Only now, there were no nightlights illuminating the corners and hallways and only small, ambient noises to guide me.

But still, it was enough.

Two weeks at home was long enough to build up a routine again. I would wake up, dress, pull my hair back into my preferred tight ponytail – though, I had no way of telling the color of my hair-tie – and then promptly do nothing the entire day.

Television held little interest to me now that I couldn't see. Video games were useless now. Books? I couldn't even read them anymore. I couldn't even go outside for a walk, even with the walking stick the hospital was kind enough to give to me, because I would get about as far as the sidewalk before the fear of getting lost would close in, and with a rapidly pound heart, I would slam the front door, retreating back into my room.

Not much of a routine.

I couldn't go back to school – at least, not yet – so instead allowing me to wallow in my misery the hospital put me in touch with a rehabilitation center for people that have been handicapped as I had. My mother described it to me as a place where I could go to learn to live with my… _condition_ … and maybe meet others to talk about our situations and learn to overcome them.

Basically, she wanted me to mourn with other handicapped people and find ways to cope. It reminded me of what people described as Alcoholics Anonymous and I said as much. I knew I was being negative, but hey, cut me some slack.

"You will be polite, won't you?" My mother said from the left, her tone was stern; motherly.

I sighed through my nose and nodded. "Yes. I will be polite." Her concern was justified, as I was somewhat less than polite by the time I had left the hospital. But I had the past two weeks to cool down and live with myself at home. I wasn't happy, not in the least… but I felt a little better.

"Good. I would hate to get complaints about my daughter being rude." This time, her voice was laced with sarcasm. Despite the fact that I was trying to stay irritated, I couldn't help but smile.

"Oh yes. That would be horrible, wouldn't it? What can possibly be worse than your daughter being rude?"

"Maybe a daughter being sarcastic?" Came her reply.

I snorted. "Oh the horror. I wonder where she got that little talent."

She hummed slightly in thought, and I felt the car shift, jostling me slightly as she turned. The slight 'bump' told me that we pulled into a parking lot… probably.

"Who can say?" She finally said. "It certainly wasn't from me. Must be her father."

"Must be." I agreed, my lips twisting into a grimace to keep the smile from ruining my bleak mood. It didn't work, as my mother must have seen my expression, and scoffed.

"Oh, lighten up, Sweetie. You'll never make any friends with a face like that."

"Gee. Thanks." I deadpanned. She laughed, and I adjusted myself in my seat as the car lurched to a stop.

"Well, here we are." She said softly. We sat in silence for a few moments until I felt the need to break the awkwardness.

"Looks like a lovely place." I said sardonically.

"Don't be smart." Her reply was short, and she cleared her throat. "Are you sure you are okay with going?"

I sighed heavily and then shrugged. "I guess. I mean, what else am I going to do? As you said, I can't just hang around the house anymore. I need to actually get out and do something."

I hadn't actually meant to sound cruel, it just came out that way, and I winced slightly as the words left my mouth. But, either my mother ignored my insolent tone, or she sympathized with me for a moment. She shifted in her chair, unbuckled her seatbelt, and got out of the car.

I waited in my seat, actually enjoying the sudden silence in the closed cabin. With the engine off and the surrounding parking lot relatively quiet, it was probably the closest I would get to complete silence as I would ever be. I inhaled slowly, and released the breath through my nose, just relaxing for a beat.

And then my mother opened my door, breaking the silence.

She helped me out of the car and, with my hand on her shoulder, we made our way to what I assumed was the building's entrance. As we walked, my mother muttered into my ear about how the building looked, and that it was two stories, and how well-kept it was, but I honestly couldn't find myself caring much. One building was as good as another. As far as I was concerned, if it wasn't a hospital, I couldn't care less what it looked like.

I heard a _'swoosh'_ as we walked, and my mother pointed out the electronic doors that had opened for us. A few moments later I heard a woman's voice.

"Hosokawa-san?"

I nodded, and then, remembering my mother's words about politeness, bowed slightly towards the voice. "Yes, ma'am. I am Kanako Hosowaka." I felt, more than heard, my mother's pleased hum from beside me at my manners.

"Excellent. You are right on time. I will let your counselor know you are here. Would you like to have a seat in the waiting room?"

"Sure." I said, only barely remembering to bow before turning away. My mother led me through another door, and into, what I assumed from the various voices floating around, a waiting room. I was directed towards a seat – a couch, unless I missed my guess – and I sat myself down.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around?" My mother asked softly.

I shook my head. "No, it's okay. I'd rather do this myself."

"Okay." She said softly. I felt her lean down and place a kiss on the top of my head. "I'll be back in an hour. I love you sweetie."

"Love you, too." I said, meaning it. I knew I was short with her recently, especially when I felt really down, but I never failed to tell my parents how much I cared about them.

I listened as my mother's footsteps receded, and back through the door we had entered from, and then I was alone. Alone with nothing but my thoughts, and my walking stick which I still hesitated to use.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I leaned my head back and winced as the back of it touched the wall. My head was still a little sore from the closed fracture, but as it hadn't required any surgery to heal was relatively simple to almost forget about it. Until I touched it.

Rubbing at the back of my head softly with my fingers, I focused on the other voices in the room for something to distract myself with. From what I could tell there was a little girl and her mother, talking about something the girl did that morning. Another couple, two women, murmured softly to each other in hushed tones. I tried to focus hard enough to listen in but eventually gave up in frustration.

A few quiet minutes later, I heard a second door open and my name called. I stood and raised my hand slightly, letting them know who I was. They must have known about my condition because I could hear the shuffling of shoes on carpet, and then my hand was directed towards a shoulder.

"I will take you to Yumi-san's room. Please follow me." The woman said kindly.

"Yumi-san?" I asked, curious about my counselor.

The woman nodded her head, or so I could feel from my hand on her shoulder. "Yes. Yumi Fukuzawa-san. She is a counselor here at the center."

"Has she been here long?"

The woman hummed in thought. "Not so long. She's a volunteer, you see, so she only has been around for a couple years."

I blinked in surprise. I still hadn't gotten over the fact that the gesture was all but useless now that I was blind. Though, it probably served its purpose if people were watching me. "A volunteer?"

Something in my tone must have sounded put out, because her reply was suddenly soothing. "Don't you worry, dear, she is a very good counselor and well-liked."

"I see." I said, only partially mollified. It wasn't as though I thought I _deserved_ an actual counselor, doctor or psychiatrist, or something… but I had assumed I would be seen by something more than a volunteer, at the least. I wasn't quite sure how to take that, but kept my silence as I was led down what I assumed was a hallway.

After a few moments, we stopped. "Well, here we are, dear." The woman said. "I'll come get you when the session is over."

"Thank you." I said softly. And before I could even ask, I heard the sound of a door opening in front of me.

I paused slightly, unsure of where the door led, or where this Yumi Fukuzawa was, when I suddenly heard a new voice call out, "Are you Kanako Hosokawa-san?"

I started, surprised by how _young_ the voice sounded. The voice, clearly belonging to a young woman, seemed like it was only a few feet away, and a bit below me. That could have meant anything; she was sitting down, of that I was simply taller than her… which was more than likely.

"I… yes." I said, the cleared my throat. "Yes, I'm Kanako." I said, bowing slightly. "It's nice to meet you, Fukuzawa-san." As I head the woman who led me to the room murmur a short 'goodbye', I stepped into the room.

The first thing I noticed as the door closed behind me was the smell. Most rooms have a smell that can be related to how they are used. Kitchens smell like food, spices and dishwasher soap. Bedrooms usually take on the smell of their inhabitants. The basketball court and locker room smells like sweat, effort and deodorant. It was something you notice even if you can see, but never really pay much attention to. But when you couldn't see, it was definitely something you paid attention to.

And this room smelled… good. There was no other way to explain it. It wasn't a spicy scent, or perfume or one of those scent emitters you plugged into the wall. It was a smell that you could tell was a person's natural smell, one you noticed when you hugged your mother or father, taking a moment to inhale against their shoulders and felt comforted from it. Or a smell you remember, if only vaguely, when you dig up your old baby blanket out of your closet and hold it close to your nose, trying to remember a moment, any moment, you could when you were small.

I shivered as the scent, relaxing and calming, invaded my senses and made my spine tingle. Only after a few quiet seconds did I realize it must be coming from the other occupant of the room, this Yumi Fukuzawa, and I ducked my head in an embarrassed blush, standing there like an idiot.

If she noticed my sudden discomfort, Yumi didn't mention it. Instead, she cleared her throat. "Would you like to sit down? There's another chair here."

I heard the soft clacking of wood on wood, and stepped towards the chair she pointed had made a noise against. It took me another second or two to feel for the arm rests and to actually sit down, but once I did I started to relax. Finding my way around new rooms always did make me a bit anxious.

But, I did appreciate how Yumi let me find the chair myself instead of leading me to it. Maybe she wouldn't be so bad, after all.

"Thank you." I said, gesturing to the chair as I placed my walking stick in my lap.

"No problem." The woman said, her smile bleeding into her tone. "I can understand how you wouldn't want people to do everything for you." I nodded, and she continued. "So… somehow, I don't think I am what you expected."

I blinked, confused. "I – um… what do you mean?"

"Well, you sound surprised." She explained patiently. "Like maybe you were expecting someone else."

Shaking my head, I licked my lips. "I… I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to be so… young." I admitted, the feeling of shame inexplicably welling up in my chest. I didn't know why, but something about this girl made the thought of upsetting her almost unbearable. Maybe it was the softness of her voice, or maybe it was how young she sounded – easily as young as I was –, or maybe it was just because she seemed to kind, and so patient, that I wanted to treat her as a friend, instead of another doctor.

Maybe that had been the plan, now that I thought about it.

"Don't worry, I get that a lot." Yumi replied, her tone airy; slightly teasing. "I think they said you were, what, twenty-two?" I nodded silently, and Yumi continued. "Well, I'm twenty-three myself. Have they told you I'm not an actual psychiatrist?"

"Yea… they said you were a volunteer." I listened as the woman shifted in her seat, the soft, plush leather of her reclines stretching as she moved. "And that you were really good and everybody likes you."

I could _hear_ the woman smile at that. "And what do you think?"

I shrugged. "I'll reserve judgement."

At that, Yumi laughed. Her laughed was bright, cheery and echoed around the room, sending an odd shiver down my spine that only added to the strange feeling of the lingering scent in the room. Her voice was very soothing, and even her laugh I had to admit was nice. I smiled, despite my cheeky remark, and leaned forward in my seat.

"That's a good attitude to have, Kanako-san." Yumi finally said after her laughter died down. "Especially with your particular handicap."

At the mention of my blindness, my smile slipped away, making way for the familiar feeling of depression and irritation that seemed to go hand in hand recently. I sat back in my chair and pinched my lips together. Of course Yumi would want to talk about that. That's why I was here, after all, wasn't it?

Seeming to sense the sudden change in the mood, Yumi's voice softened. "I'm sorry… is it still a touchy subject?"

Shaking my head, I exhaled slowly. "No… well, yes. I guess. I mean, it's only been a month or so." I scrunched up my face in thought. "I think. The days kind of blench together when you can't see a calendar." I can imagine Yumi nodding along with my words, and I clenched my hands into fists. "I can understand that getting upset and mopey about it now will not help anything. I can even accept that I have to keep a positive attitude will help me come to terms that I may… never get better."

I grimaced, the words leaving a bad taste in my mouth even as I spoke them. But it was true, and not even with how nice Yumi was it wouldn't change that.

"But the worst part is that I had to give up everything I loved because of this. My school, basketball… I can't even watch fucking television anymore! It's like everything changed, and I never did anything to deserve any of it!"

I hadnt mean to raise my voice but, recently, just thinking about my situation was enough to make me lose my temper. It was all just so unfair. I had been doing nothing wrong. I had a life, and friends, and something I loved to do, and I was almost finished with school.

And just like that, it was all gone.

No more basketball. How could I possibly play when I couldn't see the damn ball?

My friends had stopped visiting me in the hospital after three weeks – apparently, with me out of commission, the coach had them practicing twice as much to train my replacement, and I hadn't seen any of them in nearly a month.

My school had been put on indefinite hiatus, at least until I could find a university that would accept my credits and still find classes to cater to my handicap.

And, to top it all off, I could barely even walk out of the house by myself.

It was all so unfair, so _fucking unfair_ , that I couldn't help the feeling of anger and frustration that bubbled up from my belly, or my face from morphing into a snarl.

"I mean, how I am I supposed to live like this? I can't cook by myself, I can't drive or read, or play video games or watch movies, or play sports! I can't do anything!"

By this time I was shouting – venting out my frustrations to the woman sitting in front of me. But, instead of yelling back, or even turning meek and apologetic, Yumi simply replied as softly and kindly as she had been since I first walked in her door.

"Well, I can't really deny that driving would be a bad idea… but you can certainly learn to cook and read, even blind. Video games might be hard… but I would think listening to some movies would be nice. And some people prefer to listen to television shows rather than watch them." She sighed softly, wistfully. "I understand that the idea of it seems so hard now… so out of reach. But you can trust me when I tell you that it will get better, and it is very possible to live a great life, even in your case."

Her tone was so even, so matter-of-fact, that I couldn't help but feel insulted. I scoffed loudly, crossing my arms over my chest and shooting a glare in her direction – or, at least, what I figured was her direction. "And just what do you know?" I bit out, completely forgetting to police my tone around the woman. "What makes you think that it will get better, and I can still do the things I always did?"

Somehow, even blind, I could still sense when Yumi smiled. "I never said you would be able to do the same things you always did before… but I can promise you that you will be able to live a very full life."

"How do you know?" I asked, flatly.

Yumi's response was as polite, kind and simple as ever.

"Because I seem to do pretty well for myself. And I was born blind."

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 **End of Chapter 1**

A/N: Obviously, I'm trying out a new twist for this story in that since the main character (Kanako) is blind, she is incapable of seeing, and therefore you, as readers, also cannot see. Therefore, this story will focus more on scents, sounds, touching and some taste instead of describing how things and people look.

Lol... Kanako tasting Yumi. Nom nom nom.

Should be interesting, and is as much of a challenge to me as a writer working on non-visual descriptions as it is an actual story.

Anyway, I sincerely hope you all enjoy this foray into MariMire AU-verse!

Please comment/follow/favorite!

 _***Will work for glomps***_


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